


Lace and Satin

by Nicolletta (whirlybird)



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Fantasizing, M/M, Masturbation, Panty Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 00:41:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3708807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whirlybird/pseuds/Nicolletta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time it happened, it didn’t mean anything. But now, years later, Mikey admits that, okay, maybe it's a thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lace and Satin

The first time it happened, it didn’t mean anything.

Mikey was sixteen and at a Christmas break party with what looked like about half the teenaged population of New Jersey. And it wasn’t embarrassing or anything, because there were guys there passed out from too much booze and dressed up in wigs and with bras on – bras donated by the horde of tipsy, giggling girls, and they were hogging most of the attention anyway. 

And all things considered, he got off easy. When the drunken game of truth or dare started – well, it was Truth or Dare, but it quickly turned into a dare-only challenge, with the victims chosen by a spinning beer bottle – the most common dares were along the lines of _get naked and go lie in the snow_ , or _go streak across your uncle’s lawn._ There wasn’t much creativity in a crowd of drunken high schoolers.

Inevitably, with Mikey standing near the most enthused players, the spinning beer bottle eventually came to rest with its mouth pointing at him. Beer-encrusted cigarette ashes adorned the rim. The girls in attendance giggled dutifully.

One of the football players – Chris something, Chris Baines? Chris Barnes? – leaned over to speak above the drone of the people and the deep throb of the music. “Hey. Hey, Way. I dare you to – ” He frowned blearily, took a sip from his glass, and broke out into a grin. “You totally have to, like, get naked and go press yourself against the window of that church – ”

“Wait, wait, Chris, no,” the girl next to him said. She was kind of cute, Mikey remembered. Kinky copper hair and big grey eyes. Her name started with an L. Lucy? Lacey? He goes with the former and stays with it, though he’s not sure it’s right. 

“That’s like – that’s so wrong.” She was slurring her s’s into sloppy th’s, and there was orange juice and vodka all over her shirt. “Like, hey, I was at the mall today? And I bought stuff. You should, like, try it on. I dare you.”

Beside her, Chris Baines-maybe-Barnes had already forgotten about Mikey and the bottle was now pointing at fellow football player Matt. No such luck with Lacey-maybe-Lucy, though. She had attached herself to Mikey, leaning with all her weight, and spraying him with the last drops of her vodka cocktail. “I bought this,” she told him importantly, and from her messenger bag came a light pink plastic bag stuffed with colourful fabric.

“Okay,” Mikey said noncommittally. He was pretty drunk, and it didn’t sound so bad. Better than streaking in December while the jocks whooped and laughed. Plus, she was cute, and probably too drunk to remember anything the next day. “You gonna take pictures or something?”  
“Don’t have a camera,” she said, swaying to the music. “Let’s go in the basement bathroom, it’th – it’s not covered in vomit yet.” 

She was smiling so widely and Mikey was moving from _kinda drunk_ to _wasted_ and it was hard to think with the music roaring in his ears, the beat pumping through his body. He followed her – she seemed to know her way around – and the two of them ended up in a bathroom   
decorated in the nauseating ‘70’s fashion – earthy browns and moss greens. 

Mikey took a sip of whatever was in his glass, some sort of spiked punch, and watched Lucy’s firm breasts almost spill out of her tank as she leaned over to open her shopping bag.

“What is it?” he asked, curious now. “A shirt?”

She giggled and had to sit on the edge of the bathtub to keep from losing her balance. “No. No, look, _these_.” She’s holding up a pair of panties, he notices, and because he was drunk, he started snickering, too. The panties he remembers vividly – shiny and black, lace-trimmed, and modestly cut in that booty short style that Mikey really liked on girls.

“No way,” he said automatically, since it felt like he had to protest. His mouth was still stretched in a grin, through, because it was ridiculous and he was so drunk.

“Do it,” she sings, grabbing at the wall with one hand and downing the rest of her glass with the other. “I _dared_ you, you have to.”

“Okay, okay,” Mikey said, trying to sound exasperated and failing. It wasn’t like he really wanted to do it, but now he was kind of curious, and yeah, kind of turned on, but he wasn’t sure if that was from the thought of the silky material touching him there or from the ample breasts barely covered by the girl’s shirt. He wanted to believe it was from the girl, but he wasn’t sure. Maybe a combination of the two. Or maybe it was just from wondering how he would look, how his ass would fit in the girl’s cut, how nice the material felt against his skin – 

He shook his head to clear it. _It’s not that, I’m not gay, I’m drunk and there’s a hot girl in front of me, that’s why I’m getting so –_

Mikey took the panties from her hand, making her burst out in drunken laughter, and reached for the fly of his jeans. He was kind of hidden by the sink that jutted out between them, and besides, she wasn’t exactly lucid. So it wasn’t a big deal when he casually stepped out of his jeans and boxers and went to slide into the new underwear. 

He forgot all about Lucy once he slid the panties up his legs.

The delicate material easily cupped his dick, smooth silk supporting and caressing his balls, touching him lightly all over. They were tight in the back and it kind of felt like his ass was being hugged and lifted. Suddenly all he could hear his own pulse thrumming in his ears, and if he’d been alone, he would have groaned and started to explore with his hands.

Mikey just looked at himself, dazed and awed to see his own legs sticking out from the skimpy panties, his cock (still soft, but only because of the booze) bulging slightly and surrounded by the lace trim. He wasn’t sure if they fit or if the whole thing looked good, because his mind seemed to be broken.

“Oh my god!” Lucy said, cutting through the haze growing in Mikey’s head. “Oh my god, that’s so funny, I can’t believe they fit you.” She giggled again, and then hiccupped. “You must be so embar – ”

The door opened, cutting her off, and Mikey went from turned-on to fucking horrified. Putting on a pair of panties with a drunk girl in the bathroom as a dare was bad enough, but getting caught by a couple of randoms from his high school would be unimaginable.

“Oh, shit, ” Mikey whispered, and he ducked behind the door as a couple he didn’t recognize burst through it. From his half-assed hiding place, he watched as a chubby blonde girl stormed over to Lucy and hugged her around the shoulders, screaming shrilly.

“Oh my god, where have you been, girl? We thought Chris took you upstairs and I was all _oh no way, she would, like, never do that with him!_ And then Ben was all _maybe she left_ and I was like, _but she’s missing the keg_ and – ”

Mikey was forgotten as Lucy was dragged, giggling, out of the bathroom by the way-too-hyper blonde chick and some senior named Ben.

He blinked. She had taken her shopping bag but left him standing there in her new panties. Did she even want them back? Or did she honestly forget? 

Mikey dearly hoped she didn’t go telling everyone about how Mikey Way stole her panties at the party. 

He went to pull them off and got back into his familiar boxers and jeans. But instead of leaving the panties in the bathroom, he tucked them in his pocket. 

When he got back upstairs, there was a buzzing in his head that kind of made him want to escape the party atmosphere and go back home.

So Mikey called a cab and left. His head wouldn’t stop spinning, and he couldn’t let go of the little wad of fabric hidden in his pocket. And when he made sure his parents weren’t home yet, he headed into the bathroom, took off the stupid jeans and underwear, and slid the panties back up his legs. They were warm from his hand and it felt relieving to have them back on. So comfortable, and they felt as if they were made for him, tailored right to his body.

He looked in the mirror and had to bite back a moan. 

The panties _did_ fit, and they’re so fucking _shapely_ , so unlike boxers and briefs. The waistband dips down just a little in the front, showing off the cut of his hips and adding to the illusion of female curves. The lace edge was subtle, but the soft frill of it rubbed against his thighs and around his ass. 

It was surreal. Mikey hadn’t touched himself or thought about sex at all, and yet he was insanely turned on. The fit of the panties changed as Mikey’s cock stirred and hardened. Mikey shuddered and moved his legs to feel how the silk caressed him. 

This was incredible. He looked good in _panties_ – not just good, he looked fucking sexy. He tried to laugh but it came out as a hoarse moan. Mikey turned and looked over his shoulder to see the way the panties cupped his ass, and by the time he’d finished admiring the effect, the tip of his cock was almost peeking out of the waistband, rock hard, leaking a bead of pre-cum that stained the lace edge of the panties. His hand slid across the front of the black silk, rubbing light circles.

He turned to watch his ass in the mirror again as his strokes became rougher, more desperate. And Mikey wondered how it would feel if he reached back to rub his hand up between his cheeks, push the satiny material against that spot – 

With a guttural moan, Mikey came all over his hand and stomach and the black, lace-trimmed panties.

 

**

 

He’d mostly forgotten about it. Mostly.

Mikey had written the whole thing off as being influenced by the alcohol and by his raging sixteen-year-old hormones. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t have a cross-dressing fetish and he didn’t fantasize about wearing thongs under his regular clothes. It’s not a big thing, if it’s even a thing at all. 

It’s not until he’s on the tour bus with his band, texting Pete while everyone watches a movie, that it comes up again. Gerard and Frank had been out at the mall because they had run out of T-shirts – there were about eighty million black balled-up sweat-stained shirts stuffed under their bunks, but nobody wanted to touch them – and were busy sorting through their purchases and talking way too loudly for anyone to really hear the movie. Mikey half-listens to everybody, completely zoned out by all the noise and commotion and the strange feeling of not moving after days of driving.

“Ooh, Frank, are you wearing those for me tonight?” Gerard sang, poking a socked foot at Frank’s pile. 

Mikey looks, but he can’t see what caught Gerard’s attention. Unfazed, he glances back at the TV just in time to watch Neo get shot by Agent Smith.

“All you dateless losers may have forgotten, but Valentine’s Day is next week.” Frank leans down to pick up the bag, slapping Gerard’s foot away before he straightens up. “It’s a present for Jamia and it’s a present for me, ‘cause she’s going to have to try everything on and model it for me, so it’s a happy fucking Valentine’s Day for everyone.”

Mikey hears the sound of the bag crinkling; Frank is obviously showing off whatever he’d gotten.

“That one with the leather is badass,” Gerard says, sounding impressed. “Very hot.”

And okay, what the fuck, now Mikey is actually curious. Neo bleeds to death onscreen as he stands up from the couch to get a better look at what Frank is holding.

The bag says _Victoria’s Secret_ and Frank is arranging what looks like twenty bra-and-panty sets back into very neat piles. Gerard is grinning and teasing Frank – he can tell by the splutters from Frank and the way Gerard dances away to get out of reach of a joking punch – but Mikey can’t really hear what they’re saying, because he’s kind of hypnotized.

The set that Gerard was admiring – crimson lace, black leather, and metal accents – is indeed badass, but the ones that catch Mikey’s attention are the ones Frank is currently folding. They’re deep purple boyshorts, and from the way the light reflects from them he knows they’re made of the same smooth, ridiculously hot material as the ones he put on in the basement of that high school house party. 

Mikey swallows hard. He kind of wants to try them on. Not just the purple ones, if he had time – what about the revealing thong? The blue ones with sequin details? The white cotton with the delicate bow at the front? He’d kind of like to try them all, and compare, and watch himself in the mirror the whole time. Rub himself through them, lightly, maybe reach around to cup his ass in his hands – spread himself, push the silk between his cheeks and against his asshole...

What the fuck? He blinks. That was a new one.

It’s almost too dirty, and certainly too much to think about while sitting in a room with Frank and his brother. Mikey clears his throat and turns off the TV. 

“Great gift, Frank,” he says as he gets up and walks by. Gerard is off on another topic already, something about music again, but Frank catches Mikey’s comment and gives him a quick smile.

“Jamia’s gonna love this shit,” Frank predicted, and then he went back to chatting with Gerard as Mikey made a dash for the bathroom, cock hard and straining to break free of his skinny jeans. 

He barely has time to lock the door and get his jeans down and his cock out. Mikey’s already caught up in his thoughts, heart racing, cock leaking, breath coming hard already and he’s only just begun to stroke himself.

Mikey jerks off thinking of lace and satin, of silk and cotton, of hands touching him, rubbing his dick. He imagines hands in his hair, too, being a little rough, more than a little dominant. He fists the base of his cock harder, gritting his teeth, letting himself go, and now he’s thinking of doing a little teasing; swaying his hips and grinding, listening to a voice telling him _good girl, Mikey, yeah, all dressed up like that, such a pretty girl you are –_

And he comes before he has time to feel embarrassed or shocked at what he’d just fantasized about.

 

**

 

The next day he goes out to Victoria’s Secret and comes home with girls’ underwear of his own. 

He’s not the only guy in the store – there are boyfriends holding bags for the girls, and then there are the ones trying to buy things for their girlfriends. Most look confused and awkward and so Mikey doesn’t really stand out. He takes his time browsing and though he’s definitely attracted to the stretchy, modest kind with that nice sheen to the material, he tries to branch out a little, too.

At the counter, he avoids eye contact and lays out his selection – ten pairs, enough for a good sample of all fits and shapes. A nice variety of colours, some with ruffles, side-ties, embroidered appliqués – there was so much to look at, it was kind of stressful. And Mikey just wanted to choose and pay for them before he chickened out of this. 

_Am I really going to wear these_? It seems almost funny, but then he remembers how intense his orgasm last night had been. Yeah. Yeah, he’s going to wear them. The thought makes his cheeks burn, and he can’t look at anyone as he ducks out of the store.

Mikey transfers the contents of his Victoria’s Secret bag into a plain black garbage bag, paranoid about someone finding it and asking who they were for – or worse, somehow _knowing_ they weren’t for any girl, or even anyone else at all. Logically, he knows the chances of this are slim. But he can’t help but worry. He ties the black bag and hopes that people will just assume it’s his dirty laundry. Nobody in the band will want to go near that.

He stuffs it under his bunk and guards it viciously for the rest of the day. 

When Frank starts tearing up the bus, looking for his other sneaker, Mikey lets out an embarrassing squawk and tackles him as he starts rooting around underneath his bunk. 

There’s a moment of shocked silence when Frank hits the ground, the sound echoing through the bus and making everyone jump. But then Gerard and Ray laugh as they watch Frank sit up, spluttering. His face changes easily from shock to a devilish Frank-smirk and Mikey’s relieved that he’s not actually hurt, because _shit_ , he didn’t even remember deciding to lunge at his bandmate. 

“What the hell are you hiding under there, Mikeyway? Is it porn? Beer? Or are you hoarding candy?” Frank twists around and puts Mikey in a friendly headlock. “Lemme see!”

“Nothing,” Mikey grunts, wincing and squirming away from Frank’s loose grip. Frank is an agile little bastard and if he decided to actually try and peek under Mikey’s bunk, there’d be little Mikey could do to stop him. “Jesus fucking Christ, Frank, don’t fuck with my things.” 

Frank looks a little hurt, the smirk fading, and Mikey quickly realizes how angrily his voice had come out. Hurriedly, he adds in a forcedly normal tone, “I just organized my shit, man, I didn’t want you rummaging through it. Your sneaker isn’t under there, anyway.” He gives Frank’s shoulder a squeeze, grins faintly at him, and he’s pretty sure he’s forgiven because Frank’s response is to give him a thorough noogie, Mikey’s face shoved in his armpit.

Gerard and Ray have stopped paying attention and were now re-immersed in whatever musical topic they had been discussing prior to Mikey’s desperate tackle. Frank turns, interested, and within seconds he’s been sucked into the conversation, too. The focus is off of Mikey now, and he breathes a sigh of relief. He’s sweating, his heart is racing, and he’s wondering if it was a stupid idea to buy the panties while on tour. He’s pretty sure he’d never get over being mortified if someone announced that they’d found thongs and lacy panties mixed in with Mikey’s clothes. Not that Frank would be an asshole about it, but still.

Later on, though, when Mikey’s alone on the bus, he puts on the skimpiest panties he owns and lies in his bunk, eyes closed. In his head, he paints an image of Frank discovering him in the panties, and his eyes darken.

In his head, Frank doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t flip out or turn red and scarper off. Instead he smirks, bites his lip, sits down next to Mikey on the bed.

_What are these? Getting all dressed up for somebody?_

He imagines himself smiling meekly, shaking his head.

_I wasn’t dressing up for anyone,_ his mental self says, innocent, only to have Frank grab him by the shoulder, hard. He’s no longer smirking. 

_Lying here in_ these? Frank pinches his inner thigh. _Slut. Who were you waiting for? Your boyfriend?_

The real Mikey groans, hand pumping between his legs.

_I’ll show you what happens when you dress like a slut, Mikey. You get treated like a fucking slut. Is that what you want?_

_God, yes, yes,_ Mikey thinks, eyes screwed shut. _Yes, please, I’m a slut, I’m your whore, come teach me a lesson, Frank, please._

Mikey keens, hand stilling on his cock as his mind begins drawing a million different pictures of what could happen, and most of them include things that he’s never tried, but god, he wants. The little back part of the panties are riding up – he’s just got the front pulled down, to expose his dick - and it’s sending sparks up his spine, the way he can feel the friction between his cheeks.

He thinks again of Frank lying beside him, whispering filthy things about how pretty and fuckable he looks in panties, and he makes up his mind and sticks two fingers in his mouth hurriedly, slicking them as best as he could before turning over on his side and reaching down with both hands. Mikey doesn’t want to take the panties off, it would ruin the fantasy, ruin his determination to try this, so he merely moves them aside to expose his asshole.

In his mind, he is made to lay across Frank’s lap, helpless. He imagines that the fingers trailing hesitantly down his cleft belong to Frank. He’s begging for it, and he can _feel_ Frank’s smirk burning into him. Mikey groans. He’d feel so vulnerable, lying with his ass in Frank’s lap. So vulnerable, but so pretty, so desirable.

_Please, please, Frank. Please._ Mikey has his wet fingers pushing against his hole now. He’s trying to stay still, but fuck, it’s so hard. His thighs are shaking and he wants to touch his cock, but he’s lying on the arm he’d need to use and it’s too awkward. 

Vaguely, Mikey wonders what he must look like, panties all twisted and riding up and to the side, dick hard and leaking, wet fingers circling his hole. He doesn’t know how to feel about what he imagines until he adds Frank back to the fantasy. Frank is encouraging him. They’re Frank’s fingers, and Mikey can’t stop him.

_You want this, Mikey? Yeah? Tell me. Tell me how fucking bad you want me to give it to you._

“Oh, my god, do it, finger me, please,” he moans out loud, and then he just takes a deep breath and pushes one of his fingers inside himself, right up to the knuckle.

“Aaah, _oh god_ , oh...” Mikey’s eyes fly open – can’t help it, can’t help it, it’s so _weird_ but it’s so good, and his cock definitely agrees because it’s straining against his panties desperately. He’s leaking pre-cum on his favourite pair and he doesn’t really give a shit. His hips jerk and twitch restlessly, impaling himself on his own finger.

“Ow, fuck,” he says, gritting his teeth, but the pain is so damn good. Imagining that it’s someone else’s finger inside his ass, stretching him out to make room for a big cock, is even better. What would it feel like, to be stretched so wide? Hands spreading his cheeks open, pushing inside slowly… Being taken, rough and hard, having another man’s come inside him. Frank would be good, a dirty talker all the way through, pounding into Mikey with quick strokes that drive all coherent thought from his brain.

Mikey shoves his forearm across his mouth to force his mouth to stay closed before he gets any louder. He’s on the edge, dancing with his climax, every muscle in his ass and thighs clenching hard as if bracing for impact. When he tips over the edge it almost feels like his brain disconnects from reality. Gushes of come splatter over his hand and stomach, pearlescent and slick. Mikey face goes slack with pleasure and his skin tingles with warm prickly energy.

“Jesus,” he whispers to himself, feeling how wet his hand is and how spent he feels. He sort of feels like a nice sponge that’s been fiercely wrung dry and tossed aside.

Afterward, when he’s cleaned himself up, Mikey lies there half-dazed, naked except for the panties and his body still humming with an electric current. He’s not sure if he’s embarrassed or just really amazed that he’s never known this part of himself before. Does he like Frank? He doesn’t think so – maybe to try something out with, but he’s not, like, crushing on the guy. For all Frank’s annoying energy and little brother antics, Frank is a great friend and could most likely be trusted with Mikey’s secret.

And he’s sexually open-minded, maybe enough to make some of Mikey’s fantasies come to life. 

Mikey quickly wriggles out of the panties, turns the pillow to the cool side, and lies down thinking of all the ways he could possibly broach the subject with Frank. The further he comes down from his orgasm, the less likely it seems that he’s going to tell anyone. Frank had a girlfriend; he’d never look at Mikey as anything more than just a friend. It would never happen.

 

**

 

A few days later, Mikey wakes, startled, to the sound of his brother calling his name in an unusually gentle and plaintive voice. He’d fallen asleep facedown in his new copy of _Kerrang!_ “What’s up?” he grunts thickly, wiping the drool off of his chin.

“I did your laundry,” Gerard says, and his tone is a little...off. He’s standing at the entrance to the bunk area, head bowed, feet shuffling.

“Thanks, bro,” Mikey yawns, not really thinking. He flips over onto his back and rubs the sleep-crust out of his eyes. He’s not really tired any more, not after a good nine hours of sleep last night, but it feels nice to just lie there. Their schedule’s been brutal and today is a day off. Vaguely he wonders if Ray and Bob would be up for a Halo tournament.

“I mean, uh. Mikey. I did your laundry,” Gerard presses, and Mikey wonders why he’s repeating himself. 

“Oh,” Mikey says, confused, and then he realizes. “ _Oh_.”

He doesn’t even have time to be fucking humiliated. He’s stuck in that _oh, shit_ moment and doesn’t want to move or think. Throat dry and closed, Mikey closes his eyes but he can still sense Gerard’s presence, so it doesn’t really work in blocking anything out.

“I, um,” comes Gerard’s voice. “I. Didn’t mean to look or anything. And I’m. You know. Sorry?”

Mikey puts his hands over his face and prays, _go away, go away, go away so I can freak the fuck out in private._

“Mikey. It’s not, you know. A big deal or anything. If that’s what you think.” But apparently it is kind of a big deal. Mikey drops his hands to his sides, numb, and looks at Gerard. His brother is chewing his lower lip and his cheeks are as red as Mikey’s.

“You’re mad at me. Shit.” Gerard seems at a complete loss. His hands are twitching, the fingers curling and worming into his pockets and back out again, unable to keep still. If Mikey weren’t so busy feeling awful for himself he’d probably feel sorry for Gerard. He looks helpless, and Mikey hates seeing his brother look like that.

“I’m not mad, Gee.” That part’s true, Mikey reflects. He forces himself to make eye contact, at least briefly. “I just, um.” I’m going to fucking throw up, bro, you might want to get a bucket. “That was kind of – ” 

“Private,” Gerard finishes, nodding about six times. “Yeah, I figured. I thought. I mean, I never knew. Not that it’s a big deal,” he emphasizes, waving one arm and determinedly avoiding looking directly at Mikey. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal,” Mikey echoes. “Did – ”

Mikey doesn’t finish his sentence but Gerard gets it right away. “No, no. They – they didn’t see. I – I kinda made sure of that. I figured you wouldn’t want anyone to know. You know?”

“Thank you?” Mikey wants to curl up in a ball and cry, and so it’s not exactly awesome when Gerard comes to sit beside him on the bunk. His movements are jerky and he’s still looking away, but he awkwardly touches Mikey’s shoulder.

“It’s not a big deal,” Gerard says for the fourth time. “Like, I didn’t think – but that doesn’t matter. I just. Wanted you to know that I saw. So things didn’t get awkward or whatever.”

“Not awkward,” Mikey says, and a little hysterical laugh bursts from his throat. “Fuck.”  
“I didn’t want you to find your laundry done and then think that one of us saw and was too freaked to say anything,” Gerard clarifies. He looks worried, but he’s composing himself a little. “Because, like – I’m surprised, but I’m not freaked. It’s cool, if you know. Like to wear those.”

Mikey winces and has to look at his feet when Gerard squeezes his shoulder. “Come on, Mikey. Really. Don’t be mad. Please.”

“’M not mad,” Mikey mumbles.

“It’s – ” Gerard’s fingers are scrabbling a little at his shoulder. “You know I wouldn’t judge you, right? I’m not judging you. It’s just me.”

Mikey stays silent.

“You – ” His brother kind of flails, which Mikey normally finds endearing. “It’s not weird. I’ve worn girls’ clothes, we all know you’ve worn girls’ jeans, and we wear make-up so it’s not like, I don’t know, a huge step for you to take – and oh, fuck, am I making this worse? I am, aren’t I?”

Gerard is clearly getting upset, and Mikey stops wallowing in self-pity and humiliation long enough to feel bad for him. Logically, he knows that Gerard would never make fun of him. He knows that Gerard has seen him in embarrassing situations before. Hell, they’d grown up together. Awkward moments were commonplace. Mikey is reminded of the time he was five and pissed himself at his babysitter’s house, and then hid in the closet. Gerard had never laughed then, not even as a little kid.

Mikey tries to laugh again, normally, and succeeds. “Fuck. You’re not making this any worse, Gee, it’s just me. I’m – Shit, I’m kind of embarrassed that you saw it, but. Like you said – ”

“ – it’s no big deal,” Gerard echoes, looking relieved.

“And at least it wasn’t one of the other guys that found them. It could have been Worm or Otter or something. Thank god it was you, Gee,” Mikey says with feeling, and Gerard cracks a smile. The tension in the air leaves with an almost audible _whoosh_.

“It’s kind of incredible that you’ve hid them for so long with someone like Frank around,” says Gerard.

“Well, it’s kind of a new thing,” Mikey frowns and plays with the fraying edge of his blanket. “I just. I bought them two weeks ago, actually.”

“Oh. Oh, so this is like...experimental?”

“Something like that,” Mikey agrees, comforted by the way Gerard is meeting his eyes now and not staring at the floor or ceiling.

Gerard twines his fingers together and takes a deep breath. “Are you wearing them right now?”

“I don’t really wear them as everyday underwear,” Mikey says, managing to sound normal despite the way his stomach twists. What if he was wearing panties right now? Fleetingly, he thinks of the ones with the leather accents and remembers how Gerard called Jamia’s leather lingerie gift _badass._

His brother exhales loudly. “Oh. So it’s like – ”

“Onstage, sometimes. But – yeah, it’s mostly just. You know. For me.”

“For you,” Gerard parrots. “I get that.”

And Mikey knows he’s not lying. If anyone could really _get_ Mikey, it was the incredibly empathetic and supportive Gerard. Mikey is suddenly struck by an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

“Maybe come to the mall with me after lunch?” asks Mikey with some trepidation. Gerard does have a great eye for style and aesthetics. He could probably help make some great choices. 

“To buy more? Yeah, sure. Um. Can I see, later?”

“Can you see what – oh. Oh. Seriously?”

Gerard’s cheeks blush rosy pink. “Yeah. Is that weird?”

“Probably for most people. Not really for you. Yeah, yeah, you could see. If you want. I could try them on when we get home.” Mikey feels like he’s turning red, too, but he’s excited at the idea of someone supporting him in this new…whatever the fuck it is. This is exactly what he needs. Maybe he can mention his sudden crush on Frank, too, and get some big brother advice. 

“I love you, Gee,” Mikey says, reaching out to clutch his brother’s hand.

“I love you too, Mikes,” Gerard replies, looking surprised at the sudden affection but pleased, too. They both lean in for a hug at the same time. Mikey closes his eyes and presses his face into the slightly stinky fabric of Gerard’s hoodie and thanks whatever gods may exist that there will always be one person in the world that he could tell anything to.

 

**

 

“Gee?”

Silence.

“Mikes?”

Frank looks around, confused. He’s alone on the bus. How often does that happen? Mikey must be off with Pete, and Gerard was probably still stuck at the Laundromat on his thirty-fifth load of five smelly band member’s gross shirts, crusty boxers, and stained jeans. Ray and Bob were probably doing serious musician shit somewhere with the quiet intensity of the true genius. 

“Sweet,” he exclaims happily, stripping off his jeans and sprawling across the tiny excuse for a sofa. Maybe he can squish in a nap before everyone comes back and starts making a huge racket until one AM. With that thought in mind Frank gets up to fetch a blanket and pillow from his bunk.

On his way, something catches his eye – a pop of colour, tiny and very obvious against the dull tones of the sleeping area. There’s a small bit of fabric on the floor by Mikey’s bunk. Frank’s first thought was that part of his gift to Jamia had fallen out of the Victoria’s Secret bag, so he stoops and picks it up to examine it. He was right – it is panties – but they’re not the ones he’d picked out for his girlfriend. The size is different, too. What the heck? Did Mikey have a secret girlfriend or something who he was sneaking onto the bus? A twinge of jealousy jolts through Frank’s gut but he brushes it away with practiced ease.

But maybe not. Frank stares at the panties in his hand. So cute and simple, a royal blue with a simple bow in the front and a lace waistband. Simple is sexy. They’re Mikey’s favourite colour. And – they smell like Mikey, too.  
What if…

Frank’s eyes widen. The size would be about right for Mikey, and it would explain his freakout the other day over Frank snooping in his bag. Oh, jeeze, if Mikey really did like to wear women’s underwear, Frank would have an even harder time concealing his massive crush on the man. Shit. It was one of his biggest fetishes.

He wonders if Mikey wears plain white cotton panties, cock perfectly outlined in the thin, tight material. If he had a garter belt or any other clothing like stockings or heels. Closing his eyes, Frank imagines Mikey’s long gangly legs in sexy heels, calf muscles bulging and his ass pushed outwards, tight and curved. 

Mikey bent over a table, wearing just panties and heels, Frank’s hands slowly pulling the panties down to expose his pert ass – 

But what’s the point in dwelling in this? Frank knows he’s probably just being stupid. They’d lived together before, and Frank had made a move and gotten rejected. Granted, Mikey was drunk and might not even remember, but… 

He sighs and stuffs the panties back under Mikey’s bunk. Wishful thinking. It wasn’t possible that the object of his unrequited crush would also just happen to have Frank’s exact same fetish. He probably did have a girl over. It wasn’t exactly unlike Mikey, who was undeniably a ladies’ man. With his stunning looks, that wasn’t really a surprise. Terribly hot, tragically straight.

It would never happen.


End file.
